Work Text:
G’raha let out an echoing yawn. Looking through the open window the skies of Sharlayan were dark, with most of the people with sense sound asleep in their beds. The only people awake at this time were students hurrying to put final touches on papers that really should’ve been finished, administrative members dealing with the fallout of the Final Days, and him of course.
‘Although a spot of rest would not go unappreciated.’
He stretched out feeling his joints popping in relief. Rebuilding the Students of Baldesion was never going to be an easy task, but even he felt this was getting ridiculous.
‘Even when I was a student, I don’t remember this much paperwork.’
Requests to join the students, requests for funding, requests for equipment, papers to be reviewed, papers to be published, notes to look up himself, notes from Krile on things to do. It was enough to make his head spin and there were quite a few times he’d felt like getting up from the table and just leaving. A crisp, cool air blew gently through the window carrying the scent of the ocean that pervaded Sharlayan.
‘Although if I had to study anywhere, then this place is perfect.’
The section of the library had, in recent days, been designated G’raha’s corner with anybody who knew anything leaving it alone. It was a lovely sentiment but considering he spent most of his time here, he wasn’t sure anyone had actually tried taking his spot. After the Final Days he’d gained a slight celebrity status in the eyes of the Sharlayan public. To their eyes he was a hero that had stood against the end of the world.
‘I didn’t really do much, just held out till the real hero arrived.’
As he found himself frequently doing, his mind turned to the Warrior of Light. Despite the awfulness of the last few weeks, a small part of him couldn’t help but jump with joy. It was exactly like the stories he read, the hero standing against the encroaching darkness. Only now he was right by there side. He’d travelled to the end of the universe and fought alongside them. He’d even given his life; however temporary it was.
He shivered as the memory of that awful place covered his body. It felt like he had been plunged into deep water as he recalled the aether stripped surroundings. Self-sacrifice was not a new concept to him; it played a major role in all the stories about heroes, and he’d been ready to do it before. Back when he was the Crystal Exarch, his plan to siphon off the toxic light in the Warrior’s body had been ill-advised and a little ramshackle but he had been committed. Certain of both his lack of importance to them and his role in the universe. The plan had always been to ensure his people’s safety despite the personal cost.
But then, the Warrior had remembered G’raha, asking for him at the gates of the Crystarium. They’d recognised him immediately, calling out his name. A shameful part of him had been ready to give up on the plan right then and there. He wanted nothing more to spend hours talking with the friend that had enamoured him so. He’d wanted to live.
‘Somehow Emet-Selch’s interference ended up working out for the best.’
Now after everything with Elidibus he was back on the Source. He hoped everyone on the First was well, especially Lyna. A leader wasn’t supposed to play favourites, but he’d practically raised the girl and saw her as his granddaughter. The Warrior had said that everyone seemed ok when they went there so he was sure they were fine.
Being forced into the position of self-sacrifice again wasn’t something he expected. Only giving up his own aether would let them build a path forward. Knowing this he’d asked something rather selfish of his friend. A true adventure, one that they’d both remember for the rest of their lives. His friend graciously agreed, and he swore he had felt his heart sing. Then came the Meteion. A blackness enveloping him, colder and darker than anything he’d ever felt. He felt his skin give way as his very essence dissipated into the surroundings. The next thing he remembered was the light burning through his vision, finding himself standing in a field of flowers, his friend at the forefront.
They looked like every storybook hero he’d ever seen, armour shining, and sword drawn. But it wasn’t exactly like the stories. When they’d turned to face him, he’d seen their eyes, brimming with unshed tears. Their grip had trembled, and he’d been struck with a deep sorrow at his own actions. He’d wanted nothing more than to wrap them in a hug and bundle them somewhere safe, where they would never have to fight again. Because despite them being a hero, despite them being a sign of safety for so many. They’d had been constantly forced to shoulder the burden. Even now, they had to climb alone after all of the Scions had left them.
It hadn’t been adventure, or glory or anything that he’d imagined it would be. He knew that, yet somehow, they had always seemed above despair. Even the body stealing incident with Zenos had been shaken off quickly. But maybe it hadn’t, maybe they’d been forced into keeping these emotions down by what they expected. That incident had been the first time he found himself looking past the veil of heroism. He was a friend to the Warrior, he knew this. Given the privilege of knowing them in a way that few did. Late nights spent talking by the moonlight and joking with the Scions evidenced this. But it was the first time he’d been forced to confront, that maybe he didn’t know as much as he should.
So, whilst his request for adventure had been a desire of him, it was also born from a desire to know more about his friend. To see them and spend time with them outside world-ending threats. The person that he loved, and whether that was romantically or platonically was still a mystery to him. He knew he cared deeply for them; in fact, it was probably a deeper feeling than he had for anyone. But there’d never been enough time to figure out what these feelings meant. Whether he was bound by duty or the world around them, he had never had time to truly examine what it was he felt. So maybe there was a third desire to his request. Time to spend where he could examine the warmth, they made him feel.
Looking out over Sharlayan he smiled. Long nights of paperwork notwithstanding, he was making a difference. Now he waited for the day his friend called, waited for an adventure that was soon to come.